BLUE FLU
by Patcat
Summary: Written in response to a challenge at Amorous Intent. An ill Bobby.


BLUE FLUE

Chapter One

Looking across her desk, Alex Eames examined her partner with concern. Detective Robert Goren had been off his game all day, more than slightly off kilter. He lingered two steps instead of one behind her; he slipped in and out of conversations with more than his usual distracted air; and his step digressed from lumbering to lurching. And none of these developments were linked to any efforts to confuse suspects or disarm witnesses. Alex knew he hadn't ate breakfast or lunch, and his face took on an unattractive shade of green when Carolyn Barek passed around one of her sweet and cinnamon concoctions in the morning. At the moment, his head leaned heavily on an arm propped on his desk. His tie was loose, his color pale, and his eyes glassy.

Alex leaned across her desk. "Bobby? Are you ok?"

Bobby wearily raised his head. "I…I'm all right." His voice sounded strained and hoarse. "Just…maybe a cold…" He tried to focus on the form on his desk.

Alex chewed thoughtfully on her pen. (Pens were one of the few things Bobby refused to share with her because of her tendency to use them to aid her thinking.) "He must really be feeling sick," she thought. "If he admits to feeling at all bad."

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned; his forehead wrinkled in pain.

"Bobby," Alex said softly. "C'mon…what's wrong?"

"I'm ok…really." His voice was soft; it took him some effort to speak.

"Bobby," Alex said firmly. "You're not ok really. You've probably got the flu that's going around…you need to get some rest and take care of yourself…"

His eyes met hers, and for a brief moment they blazed with anger and fear; Alex nearly fell away from him in shock. But the moment passed quickly—so quickly that Alex wondered if she'd imagined it. He returned to his usual polite and calm manner and reached for his binder.

"There's Carver," he said. "It's time for our meeting."

Bobby rose to his feet and struggled to stay there. The office spun around him, and his right hand gripped his desk to steady his body. Alex, fortunately, was collecting several files and had her back to him. By the time she'd turned around, Bobby had established a shaky equilibrium.

"After you," he said with what he hoped was an elegant sweep of his arm, but the gesture served to create another wave of vertigo.

Alex extended a hand to help him, but Bobby pulled away.

"I'm fine," he insisted.

She shot him a frustrated look. "Ok," Alex said in a tone that indicated that she thought he was definitely NOT fine.

Deakins and Carver both gave Bobby concerned looks as he stumbled into the captain's office. "I'm fine," Bobby said before either could comment and flipped open his binder. He put on a strong face, and Alex was impressed enough—or fed up enough—not to contradict him.

The effort of playing well cost Bobby. His throat burned, and a very large man with a very large hammer pounded steadily inside his head. A sizable division of slightly smaller men with slightly smaller hammers attacked the rest of his body. The room was both too hot and too cold, and he fought to follow the discussion and to at least make a show of jotting down notes.

"I am not sick," Bobby thought furiously. "I can not be sick…I will not be sick…"

He was aware that Carver's mouth had ceased moving and that Deakins and Alex were studying him. Through a haze, Bobby recalled that Carver's last words were something along the lines of "don't use any of your tricks, Detective," and even if the lawyer hadn't said those words, he said them so often that it was a good bet that he had. Bobby took a chance.

"Yes, counselor," he said.

"Good," Carver said. "Take care of yourself, Detective…you look worn out…"

If he thought he could do it without increasing the rotation inside his head, Bobby would have shaken his head in wonder at Carver's concern. He settled for barely nodding his head.

"Bobby." Deakins' voice came down a very long tunnel; Bobby sensed he'd lost several strands of the conversation. "Don't make me order you to go home."

"I'm ok…really…" Bobby realized he failed to convince anyone, including Bobby Goren. "Look…" He started to stand.

"Well, that was a mistake," Bobby thought as he stared at the spinning underside of Deakins' desk. The floor was blessedly cool against his cheek, and he desperately wanted to surrender to sleep. Voices pummeled his brain, and hands gently touched him. Bobby groaned as the hands pushed him on his back, and the light pierced through his closed eyelids. The men with hammers inside his body had acquired several drills and been joined by at least several dozen reinforcements. "Please," Bobby thought. "I want to sleep…let me sleep…"

"Bobby…please…let us help you." Alex's voice broke through the fog around him. Deakins' voice also emerged, sounding equally calm and concerned. "C'mon, Bobby…it's ok…"

Bobby blinked, and the worried faces of Alex, Deakins, and Carver hovered over him.

"Oh, great…we shoulda sold tickets." There was a pause before Bobby realized he'd spoken the thought out loud. "Sorry," he mumbled and started to sit up. The room spun around him again, and Bobby felt arms easing him back on the floor.

"Easy, Bobby," Deakins said gently, and Bobby wondered, not for the first time, if that was what a real father's voiced sounded like.

Bobby realized that Mike Logan had joined the group in Deakins' office. "Is anyone left in the Squad Room?" he muttered. He shivered violently. "I'm so…cold…so thirsty…"

Someone helped him raise his head, and Bobby gratefully drank from a magically appearing bottle of water. It hurt to swallow; it hurt to think; it hurt to breath; it hurt to do anything.

"I…I'm sorry…be so much trouble," Bobby whispered. The water helped him. "I think…I can sit up…"

Several hands helped him sit. Bobby leaned against Deakins' desk and waited for the room to stop spinning. His head finally cleared, and the words "ambulance" and "hospital" reached his ears.

"No," he said as clearly and firmly as he could. "No ambulance…no hospital…I don't need…"

"Bobby," Alex said. "It may not just be the flue…and even if it is…you fainted…you're probably dehydrated."

"I will not be carried out of here," Bobby said. His brain's logical part told him he was being childish, but that part was struggling with very little success against his body's pain and exhaustion.

Logan crouched near Alex. "Ok, then," he said. "If we help you, will you let us take you to the ER at least?"

Bobby nodded.

The combined efforts of Deakins, Logan, Carver and Alex managed to move Bobby to a chair. Alex handed him the water bottle, and Bobby took a long drink. She carefully studied her partner; he was very pale and shivering, but at least his eyes were clear.

"My old girlfriend—Gina—she's a nurse now at St. Ann's in the ER," Logan said. "I'll see if she's on duty and can give us a hand."

Alex was happy to see that Bobby was able to follow the conversation.

"They'll probably look at me, tell me I've got the flu, and send me home," Bobby said. "But I'll go…I think I can stand up now…"

"Barek's bringing a SUV around," Logan said as he helped Bobby stand. He moved to help Bobby walk, but Bobby shook off the aid.

"I gotta get through the squad room by myself," he insisted.

Carver shook his head as he and Deakins watched Bobby, flanked by Alex and Logan, walk through the office.

"There goes," the attorney said. "One of the most stubborn people I know."

Deakins gave a small smile. "Be glad he's on our side."

Carver gave the Captain a guarded look. "I'm not always sure he's on MY side," he said wryly. "But he does seem to usually be on the right side. Let me know how he is."

End Chapter One

Chapter Two

Alex watched with a combination of awe and exasperation as Bobby walked through the office. His earlier collapse appeared to have escaped general notice, and he attracted little attention as he, Logan, and Alex passed by the desks. But as they waited for the elevator, Alex felt exhaustion moving in waves from Bobby's body. She gently grasped one of his arms to steady him and realized he struggled not to shiver. She glanced at Logan, who moved closer to Bobby and place a hand on his elbow.

"Hang on, Goren," Logan said. "We'll be in the car in a few minutes."

Bobby tried not to lean on either Alex or Logan. "I'm sorry…to be so much trouble…"

"It's no trouble," Logan insisted. "As a matter of fact, you're keeping Barek and me from a large, nasty pile of paperwork."

Bobby tried to smile; the result was rather ghastly. No one, fortunately, joined them in the elevator, and Barek waited for them when they arrived at the parking garage. Bobby fell heavily in the back seat.

"There's a blanket in the back," Barek said.

Alex found the blanket and carefully wrapped it around Bobby who was losing his battle against shivering. "You don't have to be brave," she said softly. "Everybody gets sick sometime."

Logan, seated in the front passenger seat, turned. "Yea, and you've got two beautiful women trying to help you…enjoy it while you can…"

Barek concentrated on the road. "Thanks, Logan, but I'm not doing any of your paperwork."

Bobby feebly attempted to say something, but a violent fit of coughing cut off his words. "Sorry," he whispered. "It hurts…and I'm so tired…"

St. Ann's was only a few minutes away. Logan directed Barek to an area clearly marked "Do Not Enter." A flash of his badge placated a security guard, and Logan stepped out of the SUV.

"I'll be right back," he said.

Alex was not a cop who believed special privileges accompanied her badge, and she knew that Mike Logan fell squarely in that group as well, but at the moment she had no qualms about using it if it got Bobby help. Logan returned after a handful of minutes; an intense, pretty woman in her thirties dressed in scrubs was with him and pushed a wheelchair.

"Hey, Detective Goren," she said cheerfully. "Hear you've been hit by the big, bad bugs going around."

Bobby attempted to protest being bumped ahead of other patients, but the nurse waved him off.

"You're not going ahead anyone in worse shape…and people who save me from big, bad guys get special treatment."

"Thanks, Gina," Logan said as they entered the hospital.

Gina looked at him steadily. "It's for him, Mike, not for you," she said forcefully, and Alex sensed there was a lot of history behind Gina's few words.

The staff banished Logan and Barek to the waiting room; they allowed Alex to remain with Bobby. He appeared either resigned to his fate or too sick to protest.

"I'm sorry." His voice was so soft Alex could scarcely hear it over the hospital noise. "To be so much trouble…to have frightened you…"

"It's ok," Alex said. She rested her hand on Bobby's arm. "You certainly don't want to be sick."

Bobby swallowed painfully. "I hate it," he whispered. "Always have…since I was a kid…"

Gina appeared, accompanied by an impossibly young doctor.

"All right, Mr. Goren," the doctor said. "You're getting even better than our usual top notch treatment because of Gina…we need to keep our nurses happy…"

Her examination was brief but thorough. At its conclusion, the doctor turned to Alex. "I understand you're his partner, Ms. Eames?"

"In more ways than one," Alex thought. She nodded.

"We could admit him," the doctor said. Bobby grimaced. "But we need the beds right now…and all we could really do is pump fluids into him and do things that can be done for him at home…and he needs lots of rest, and he'll probably do that better in his own bed…here's some instructions and some medication…if he gets worse…if his fever stays up after he takes the medication or he has any reactions, just get him back here. But you probably know the drill…keep him warm, give him fluids, let him rest."

"Thank you," Alex said.

Alex dealt with the paper work, and Barek went for the van while Logan wheeled Bobby to the exit. The medication was already starting to lower Bobby's fever, and that, coupled with the knowledge that he wouldn't be spending time in the hospital, left Bobby somewhat more coherent.

"Sorry, Logan," he said and tried not to wince; his throat still felt as if a burning liquid had been poured down it.

"Stop apologizing, Goren," Logan answered him good naturedly. "Like I said, you're saving me from a pile of paperwork."

"Thanks…for getting me in so quickly." Logan had to lean forward to catch Bobby's voice.

"That was Gina…she figures she owes you…"

"I'm sorry…you didn't stay together."

Logan sighed. "Yea…me too…but there was just…too…much stuff…"

"Yea," Bobby said. "Stuff…"

The medication was potent enough and Bobby sick enough that he was in a highly tractable state on the journey to his apartment. He could move on his own, but at several points during the trip from the SUV to his apartment door Bobby leaned heavily on Logan. Alex led the way to his apartment.

"Let's get him to his bed," she said. "I'm not sure we can get him back up again if he gets on the couch."

He was mute as they helped remove his coat, jacket, tie, shirt, pants, socks and shoes. Alex pulled back the covers, and Logan helped him lift his legs on the bed. Bobby thought he might have been more exhausted in his life, but he couldn't remember when. Alex slipped an extra pillow under his head and pulled the sheet and blankets around him.

"You want anything? I'm going to send Logan and Barek out for supplies." Ales's voice soothed him.

"Could I…could you…get me…some Seven-Up…or ginger ale?" The covers muffled Bobby's voice. "And some…sherbert?"

Alex knelt by his bed to hear him; she smiled at his requests. "It was always ginger ale at my house…and orange sherbert…what flavor do you want?"

"Orange…is fine," Bobby murmured. "But…if there's lemon…" He was nearly asleep.

Alex gently laid the back of her hand against Bobby's forehead. He still felt warm, but not as hot as he had a few hours ago. "We'll try to get you some lemon," she said.

"Thank you, Alex," Bobby said and he fell into an exhausted sleep.

Alex rose and turned past the large bookcase that separated the bedroom from the main part of Bobby's one room apartment. She discovered Barek examining the titles on the bookshelves and Logan entranced by the CD collection.

"So, this is Goren's cave?" Logan said. "The guy has a wide and good taste in music."

"And books," Barek said.

Alex smiled. "I hope," she said. "That you'll let people know Bobby lives in a nice, bright apartment and not in some hole in the wall."

"How is he?" Barek asked.

"Better…poor guy's asleep…could I ask you two for another favor?"

"Anything to save us from that paperwork," Logan said genially.

Logan and Barek returned roughly a half hour later bearing Seven-Up and ginger ale, orange and lemon sherbert, a large container of chicken noodle soup from the corner deli, orange juice, bottles of water, vitamins, and a baffling variety of over the counter medications. Alex surveyed the offerings with a cynical eye.

"Well, this should handle whatever Bobby has…and then some," she said.

"And," Logan said. "The lady at the deli heard us mention Goren's name…she sent these along…" He produced a small packet of tea bags. "She said it's a mixture of herbs…perfectly safe…might not help him, but won't hurt him…"

Barek poked her head from the tiny kitchen. "Goren's very popular with the staff there…they all wanted to know how he was…we had to promise them a report after we came here so they'd let us out of there…"

"Yea," Logan added. "And the doorman wants an update too. I think Goren is a pretty popular guy around here."

"Yea, and he's probably the only one who doesn't know it," Alex sighed.

Barek emerged from the kitchen. "Anything else we can do, Alex?"

"I don't think so," Alex said. "Thanks, guys."

"We'll give Deakins a full report…and everyone else…" Logan smiled. "You call us if you need anything, ok?"

"I will."

Logan paused at the door. "This is your last chance to save us from that paperwork, Eames…"

"Oh, get a move on, Logan." Barek gave him a friendly shove out the door.

After she shut and locked the door, Alex filled two large glasses with water and ice and headed to Bobby's bedroom. He slept the restless, troubled sleep of the sick, occasionally tossing, turning, twitching, and murmuring. Alex gently laid her hand against his forehead.

"Poor baby," she whispered.

End Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Alex smiled at the thought of anyone Bobby's size being a baby. "Still," she thought. "The bigger they are, the more babying they seem to need…it's not just that he doesn't like being sick…he seems terrified of it." She softly touched his curls. "Try and get some sleep," she whispered. She padded quietly into the living room and studied the books on his shelves. "Well, I always meant to read DAVID COPPERFIELD," she thought and curled up on the couch with the book.

She had just arrived at the conclusion that David was by far the least interesting person in his own story when Alex heard a strange, garbled sound from Bobby's bed, followed by a series of deep, rattling coughs. She closed the book and checked the time. "Cough medicine must be wearing off," she thought as she moved to his bedside.

Bobby moved fitfully beneath the covers; Alex touched his forehead, which felt hot and moist. He shivered, and his eyes flickered open.

"Hey," Alex said as she knelt by his bed. "How you feeling?"

He looked at her with glazed eyes. "I…don't feel very good…" he whispered. "My head hurts…and I'm thirsty…"

"I can help with those." Alex said. A smile crept around her lips; Bobby seemed very much like a little boy. "Would you like Seven-Up or ginger ale?"

"Seven-Up," he whispered, peering at her from under the covers.

"You hungry? Do you want some soup or sherbert?" Alex's hand brushed his dark curls.

Bobby trembled. "No…not yet…but thank you." His voice was cautious and hesitant.

"Ok," she said. "I'll be right back. Bobby."

He watched her intently as she left. When Alex returned, Bobby had drifted back into a restless state of near sleep. He woke when she came near the bed, and tentatively lifted his head from beneath the blanket.

Alex unscrewed the cap on the cough medicine. "First, you need to take this." To her surprise, Bobby pulled his head back beneath the covers.

"What is that?" The blankets muffled his voice, and Alex thought he sounded afraid.

"It's cough syrup, Bobby," Alex answered patiently. "Here…you can check the label if you want…" She decided his illness had made him nervous.

He emerged cautiously from the blankets and read—or at least tried to read—the label. "Ok," he said, and took the thick, red liquid without further complaint. His eyes gazed intently on Alex as she handed him the glass of Seven-Up. He sipped it cautiously and then took a long drink.

"Here," Alex said. "Here's some vitamin C and Advil…"

Bobby studied the pills with the same intensity and suspicion he had the cough syrup, but he swallowed them. He finished the soda and slipped under the covers.

"I…I'm sorry…so much trouble," he whispered.

"It's all right," Alex said as she placed the medicines on Bobby's bedside table. "I just wish you'd stop apologizing…and acting as if I'm trying to poison you, Bobby."

The pain and fear that crossed Bobby's face stunned her, and Alex dropped by the bed.

"Bobby?" She reached to touch his head, but he twisted and pulled away. "What's wrong?"

"Why," he whispered, his head turned away from her. "Why are you calling me Bobby?" Why, Mom?"

"Oh, no," Alex thought. "He's confused…he thinks I'm his mom…no wonder he's acting like a kid…he thinks he is a kid…"

"You always tell me…Bobby is a kid's name…that I have to be a man…"

Alex took a deep breath; she sensed confronting Bobby would only agitate him further. "I just thought," she said softly. "Since you're sick…you deserve…need to be treated…more like a kid…"

He turned his head to her, his eyes full of doubt and fear. "You're ok?" He asked. "You took your medicine?"

"Yes…yes I did."

"You…you've had something…to eat?" It took more and more effort for him to speak.

"Yes…don't worry…I'm fine…you rest…take care of yourself…" Alex felt her heart breaking.

"I'm sorry…sorry to be sick…I'll help…as soon as I'm better…sorry…" He finally drifted to sleep.

Alex remained kneeling by Bobby's side until she was sure he was asleep. She stood, carefully tucked the blankets around him, and tenderly kissed him on the cheek. She went to the bathroom and washed the tears from her face.

End Chapter Three

Chapter Four

There was a dull, distant pain in his head, and as he woke up, the pain moved throughout his body and became less distant and dull. His throat was dry and burning, and his mouth felt as if a large sponge had soaked up all of its moisture. Bobby moved slowly and carefully to sit up and shivered as the cool air hit his damp skin. His very damp skin, he realized; his T-shirt was soaked and his hair plastered to his head. He saw a glass of water on the table near his bed, and he drained it in one large gulp.

"Ok," he thought. "I think I can try this…"

He slowly slipped his legs from under the covers and sat unsteadily on the edge of the bed. A wave of coughing seized him, and Bobby gasped for air and in pain.

"Hey." Alex appeared at his side. "What are you doing up?"

"I…" Bobby stared at his feet. "I…need to go to the bathroom…"

"Ok," Alex said. "But get up slowly…and…do you know where you are and who I am?"

Bobby gave her a weak smile. "I'm in my germ infested apartment…you're my partner who's going way beyond any professional or personal definition of that…" He coughed. "Probably exposing yourself to the bubonic plague…"

"Not according to the hospital," Alex smiled.

Bobby frowned. "The hospital…was real?"

"Yea," Alex said. "C'mon…I'll help you…"

By the time Bobby emerged from the bathroom, Alex had replaced the damp sheets. She helped him lurch to the bed and replace his wet T-shirt with a dry one.

She tenderly touched his forehead. "I think your fever broke…are you hungry? Do you think you could eat something?"

"I remember something…about sherbert?" Bobby asked shyly.

"You're right," Alex replied. "And Logan and Barek picked up both orange and lemon on their trip for supplies."

"Please…could I have some lemon? I'm not sure my throat would take much else," Bobby said.

He managed several spoonfuls of sherbert and drinks of Seven-Up. Alex shook her head. "Well, if it works for you," she said. "But that doesn't seem such a great combination to me."

Bobby smiled weakly. "I'm really sorry, Alex…for being so much trouble."

She leaned forward and laid a hand on his arm. "It's ok…although I was a little worried you might start calling my name in your delirious state…and Deakins told me in no uncertain terms that you should've stayed home and not exposed the entire squad." Alex smiled.

Coughs suddenly wracked Bobby's body. "Damn," he said after he caught his breath. "I thought I was feeling better…"

"Time for some more cough medicine," Alex said.

Bobby glanced at the bottle. "Good grief, no wonder I'm sleeping…this stuff would knockout an elephant," he said. "No wonder I can't tell what's real…and I have enough bad dreams of my own…"

Alex gently kissed him on the forehead; she was pleased to find his skin was dry and cool. "Try and get some rest…I'll be right back."

She returned and found Bobby curled under the covers.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just…just hate being sick…"

Alex pulled the chair closer to the bed. "You don't like being helpless…no one does…I know I don't." She rested her hand on his head.

His dark eyes were troubled. "I remember…or was it a dream…" He swallowed.

"Your throat still hurt?" Alex asked. She hoped that Bobby wouldn't recall his earlier confusion.

"A little," he answered softly.

He was silent, and Alex let out a breath. "Ok," she thought. "We may have dodged that bullet…"

"A…Alex?" Bobby's soft voice broke the quiet.

"Yes…" Her heart approached her throat.

"I…I can't tell if it was a dream…or the fever…but…earlier…did I …confuse you…with…with my mom?"

"Yes," Alex said quietly. She couldn't and wouldn't lie about this to him.

He took a deep breath. "I…I'm sorry, Alex."

"Please," she said softly and firmly. "Stop apologizing for being sick…it was the fever, Bobby…"

"I know, but…" He emerged from the covers and sat up.

"The same rules as always, Bobby," Alex said gently. "You can tell me as much…as little…as you want."

"It's just…sometimes…when I was a kid…when I got sick…there was no one to remind my mom to take her meds…not that they always helped." His tone wasn't bitter, but resigned. "And she'd forget to eat…"

Alex slipped her hand around Bobby's.

"If I was sick…it could mean the difference between her being well…or being…sent away…" Bobby's fingers tightened around Alex's. "And if she was sent away…I…I…"

"You'd go to your dad?"

Bobby nodded. "If they could find him." His voice retained that strange, resigned tone. "Sometimes…I wound up in foster care…I stayed with Lewis' family some…"

It wasn't the first time that Alex couldn't find the words to tell Bobby how brave she thought he was, how remarkable a man he was, how much she loved him. As she had in the past, she relied on her actions. Alex sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around Bobby; they remained in a silent embrace for some time.

"Bobby," Alex finally said. "Earlier…when you were confused…you acted as if…as if you thought…someone…was trying to poison you…"

He pulled away from her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You don't have to…"

"It's all right," he said, although the tone of his voice and angle of his posture suggested it was anything but all right. "It's just…" He shivered.

Alex laid her hand against his back.

"It's not the flu," he said. "It's…" He glanced at Alex. "Once…when I was thirteen…I got sick…flu…and my mom…she thought I was possessed or something…"

"Oh, no." In a flash, Alex saw what had happened. "She didn't try to…"

"It wasn't actual poison," Bobby said quickly. "I'm not sure what it was…but it made me even sicker…really sick…I don't remember that much…I know I spent a day or so on the bathroom floor…"

"You didn't…didn't someone take you to the hospital?" Alex was stunned.

"There wasn't anyone really…my dad and brother weren't around…and if I'd have tried to go…they would've taken her away…" His eyes met Alex's, and she struggled to keep focused on him in spite of the fear and pain she saw in them. "I couldn't let that happen…to her…to me…"

"Oh, Bobby…no wonder you hate this so much…" She reached for him but he pulled away.

"When…" She could barely hear his voice. "When I could finally stand up…and could check on her…" He shivered. "She was…it was bad…very bad…she hadn't taken her meds…or eaten…" Bobby stared into space. "I can't…can't be sick…too many…so many things…can go wrong…"

Alex crawled into the bed beside Bobby. Whether from exhaustion or need, Bobby didn't pull away from her.

"It's different now," she said softly. "You're not alone…I'm here…" She slipped beneath the blankets and wrapped her arms around him. He allowed her to rest his head on her lap, and he hugged her. She pulled the covers over him.

"What if?" His voice was a muffled low rumble. "What if I make you sick?"

Alex knew he spoke of far more than just the possibility of her catching the flu from him.

"You've only got the flu," she said. "You'll get better…and if I get sick, you'll take care of me…we have each other…Ok?"

A long pause followed. "Ok," Bobby finally answered. "Thank you, Alex…I love you…very much…"

"You're welcome…and I love you too…very much." She kissed him. "But if I get sick, Bobby…"

"Yea?"

"No lemon sherbert…only orange."

He smiled. "You got it…"

END


End file.
